Steal Me, Put Me In Your Pocket, I'll Be There
by singyourmelody
Summary: There's a boy and a girl and they are standing too close together. This is the road to ruin. / / Brandon and Callie, a little in the future. Oneshot.


"Steal Me, Put Me In Your Pocket, I'll Be There"

by: singyourmelody

Disclaimer: Don't own The Fosters characters. Title is from "Running with the Devil" by Alexz Johnson. There are a lot of other song credits in this one, so here they are in order: Fall Out Boy's "Alone Together," Sleeping at Last's "We're Still Here," Capital Cities' "Safe and Sound," James Bay's "Stealing Cars," The Avett Brothers' "I and Love and You," Cary Brothers' "Free Like You Make Me," Vampire Weekend's "Don't Wait," Paramore's "Still Into You," and Something Corporate's "Watch the Sky." All great songs. I highly recommend.

This is a post-season one finale fic and actually a future fic. Takes place a little while after season one ends. Hopefully the formatting isn't too confusing for anyone, this is definitely something different.

* * *

This is the road to ruin.

(Start at the end.)

x

There's a boy and a girl and they are standing too close together.

An old man walking by, bony fingers wrapped tightly around his wooden cane, thinks they are sharing a pair of headphones and a secret. Or maybe just an umbrella.

The rain is dripping down and landing on the girl's shoes and it's almost romantic.

But the girl looks sad, her eyes much older than her face, the old man thinks to himself. And the boy looks tired. They seem lost, a tattered map in their hands, whispering softly to each other, but somehow not worried, not concerned.

It's almost romantic.

Almost.

x

We're still here.

(Against all odds, we're still here.)

x

The grave stone is small, he notes.

"This is my mom," she says quietly.

"Mom, this is Brandon. He's. . ." she pauses then. Somehow _boyfriend_ seems like not quite enough, but she's not sure how else to describe him, so she says, "mine. With me. Every step of the way. And Jude is with his parents because they are so great. They are exactly who you would've picked out for him."

It pains him to hear her talk of his moms that way because she is right. They are great. They love them. And him and her? He knows they are leaving a trail of heartache in their wake.

"And I love him, mom, and I know you probably wouldn't approve at first, until he told you that joke about what the tree said to the wind and then you'd laugh and you'd be completely won over and when we'd get married you'd actually cry a little because you'd be so glad I found someone who loves me this much."

She stops then and he doesn't say anything and really, he doesn't need to. He's there.

x

You could be my luck.

(Even if the sky is falling down.)

x

They sleep together for the first time in a fifty-dollar-a-night motel, in a town called Smithville, with the squeaky air conditioning turned up too high and the ice melting in the bucket, because she can feel his doubts starting to creep up around them and because she's had her own since they pulled out of the driveway, but most of all because Smithville feels like a place where everything can just be normal, if only for one night.

He looks right at her after he drops their small bag on the floor and he was always so sure, he was the sure one, but she sees it. Just the tiniest sense of insecurity, the smallest spark of anxiety and uncertainty over what they've done.

He needs this just as much as she does. So she kisses him.

And then his fingertips are on her skin and his warmth is enveloping her and the way he says her name as if he can't stand _not_ saying it, helps her drown it all out, if only for a moment.

It's so much better than she could have imagined, their first kiss at the wedding just a prelude to all of _this_ and it's so much worse because she will never, ever be able to break away now.

He collapses next to her when they are done and she feels shattered into a million pieces. But then he turns his face towards hers and she sees that he's shattered too. And maybe they are in pieces, but those pieces, they have smooth edges, edges that can be put back together again. Maybe not in the same way, she's not even sure which pieces are hers and which are his, but they _could_ be put back together, his heart where hers used to be, hers filling his empty space.

"I love you," she says, quietly, reservedly.

"I know," he says after a moment. "But it's still nice to hear."

x

Maybe the world won't find us.

(Let's go throwing stones and stealing cars.)

x

They turn their phones back on.

This is a mistake.

They buzz and buzz and buzz, texts coming in from the moms and the siblings and lord knows who else.

Her missed call count is at twenty-seven, his even higher.

They pull over and with a forced exhale, he dials home.

The argument is loud and long and only serves to make everyone more on edge.

He slams the phone down when it's over and she says, "We should go back."

"What? No. They're going to split us up."

"I am ruining your family! We are ruining your life and my life and how can this be worth it?" she asks.

He visibly recoils at her words then.

"This is worth it because I love you. How can you not see that? And deep down, even though you won't admit it, you love me too," he states, his tone as bitter as the coffee they drank at the small diner where they made plans and promises.

"We can't live on that, Brandon. That's a fantasy. This whole thing is just a fantasy. It has to be."

He shakes his head. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been for me, with you? You're everything I've wanted and I am constantly reminded of that. Every time you tuck your hair behind your ear or dress up to go out with some other jackass or sit next to me when we watch the news, the news Callie! The freaking news is tortuous for me. Because you are everything I want and everything I can't have all rolled into one. And then we're washing that stupid car you bought and suddenly we're kissing and I just let myself indulge for one simple perfect moment. But that one moment turned into two, turned into the fact that I can't stand not kissing you anymore. I've forgotten how to do that.

And I know you think you're damaged and that you don't deserve anything good, because people in your life have made you feel that way, but it's not true. It's not true at all. And us thinking they're right? Even for one second thinking that they have it figured out better than we do? That's what would ruin everything. Not you. Not me."

There are tears running down her cheeks.

"Stop doing that," she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Doing what?"

But she just shakes her head and asks "Do you want me to drive for a while?"

They switch places as she wipes her eyes.

x

The highway sets the traveler's stage.

(All exits look the same.)

x

"_You deserve to have everything you want. Don't you?"_

From the passenger seat, his words from years before wrap around her, mixing with the steady hum of the engine and his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

_His lips on her lips, her hands tangled in his hair, happiness, terror. _

This is what she deserves. This is everything she wants. Isn't it?

The white lines of the highway pass them by, town after town, streetlight after streetlight.

It all melts into one, her sense of space and time bending and stretching into something entirely different, like that Dali painting she once saw in a coffee table book three foster homes before.

She stares out the window.

Stop. One Way. Speed Zone Ahead.

Yield.

_No U Turn._

She wonders how her life would have turned out if she had learned to read the signs long ago.

x

I want you to be free.

(Free like you made me.)

x

He puts the blinker on around exit 48 because his eyes are stinging and he needs a break.

She looks over at him questioningly, but instead just follows him into the small diner.

"What'll be?" the waitress asks, plopping two sticky menus on the table in front of them.

They order and he stares at the checkered pattern of the table, every minute of the past forty-eight hours rushing back over him.

When he finally looks up, her eyes meet his.

"I just thought we could use a plan," he says finally.

She nods. "A plan could be good."

He pulls out a map, an honest-to-God paper map, because their phones have been off since they left and because nothing about this was planned and because on some level, neither of them can even begin to sense north.

"Where to?" he asks, unfolding the map around the napkin holder and salt-and-pepper shakers.

"Does it even matter?" she says.

He nods. "Yeah it does. We're doing this, so it does."

And that's always been the difference between them. He wants and she doesn't dare to.

But he likes to think he's changing that about her. That he's helping her desire big, important things. That they are learning to want them together.

She stares at him for a moment and he can tell she's trying to decide whether or not she should tell him something. But then she exhales and begins.

"In that case," she says, "there's someone I'd like you to meet."

x

It's the last time running through snow.

(Where the vaults are full and the fire's bold.)

x

"How long?" his mom asks.

He can't meet his mom's eyes. He knows what he'll see when he does.

She repeats her question, over and over until Callie finally answers her.

"Almost three months," she says and he looks up.

Lena looks stunned. His mom stares on in disbelief.

"You've been sneaking around together for three months?"

"Yes," he responds.

"Do Mariana and Jesus and Jude know?" Lena asks.

"No," she says. "I don't think so." She looks to him for help.

"No, they don't. We've kept it all under wraps," he states.

"Are you sleeping together?" he mom asks.

"Mom!"

"Well?"

She shakes her head. "It hasn't gone that far."

"And it won't. You both know you can't do this. You know that, right?" his mom asks again.

"Is this why you didn't want us to officially adopt you, Callie?" Lena asks, gently.

"No. Brandon had nothing to do with that. Jude needed to be adopted. He needed you guys. I didn't want to mess anything up for him. I thought that if we didn't have the same last name, he wouldn't be held accountable for my mistakes. He could be his own person. He could be okay or something. . . I don't know. . ." she trails off.

"This has to stop now. As in tonight. This moment," his mom dictates.

He looks at her and she looks scared and he hates that he's put her in this position.

So he nods and she stares at him, confused, before nodding herself.

Neither sleep that night.

He knocks on her door sometime after two, with a packed bag and keys in his hand and she protests momentarily about how she can't do this to the moms again, but he takes her hand and she holds onto his so tightly that he knows she can't give this up either.

He backs the car quietly out of the driveway and she falls asleep, her fingers still intertwined with his.

x

To your favorite song we sang along.

(To the start of forever.)

x

It's like something out of one of Mariana's rom-coms. Of course it is.

She works every shift she can at the ice cream shop and eventually saves enough to buy a 1966 Volkswagen Beetle and it's one of her proudest moments.

The whole family comes out to see it when she pulls up and they ooh and they ahh and he says, "Could use a few touch ups."

"Gonna help me?" she counters, but doesn't expect him to say "Sure."

So they find themselves spending hours and hours scrubbing and scraping and painting and waxing and laughing a lot.

She forgot how much he can make her laugh, can make her forget about everything.

And it's sunny on the day it first happens. She's not sure why that's so important, but it is. There's sunshine and warmth and they are arguing over who's been more influential in music, Dylan or Springsteen, and she gets so frustrated that he would even consider Springsteen that she throws her soapy sponge at him.

It hits him square in the chest and foamy bubbles land on his jaw and up into his hair and he stares at her in shock for a moment.

And then there's water flying everywhere and they're both soaked and she doesn't know if he kissed her or she kissed him, but it doesn't even matter because the point is this: they're kissing. And they shouldn't be.

And really, could this be any more cliché?

She pulls away with Jude's face flashing through her mind.

"Callie," he pleads and she can almost hear his unspoken argument.

_It's different now, right?_ Jude is adopted, officially. And they're older. He is eighteen. She'll be eighteen within the year. It could be. . .

She shakes her head. "I-"

"Can't. I know. We never can," he finishes for her, dropping the sponge back into the bucket and wiping his hands on his drenched shorts, casually, as if reciting those words was nothing more than telling someone the time.

_We never can_.

There's something in his resigned tone that stays with her, even as she showers to wash away all the soap and him. Even as she sleeps later that night.

Even as she reaches over and holds his hand under the table as they eat Captain Crunch out of matching bowls the next morning.

He looks at her questioningly.

"Why?" he asks.

Because there's no more Talya or Wyatt or Samantha or anyone else and because Jude's future is finally secure. Because she wants to and he wants to and because they play together and it's amazing. Because she can tell him about all of the horrors that continue to haunt her. Because he listens.

"Because we both deserve more," she says finally and it's a simple sentence, and not even a complete one, but it's a promise.

x

Live the life you're given with the storms outside.

(Some days all I do is watch the sky.)

x

She promised. She promised Jude that she wouldn't be selfish. And then she ran.

She had to, the memory of how he tasted, smelled, felt, _everything_ was seared into her brain, branding her. You don't just forget.

That summer is important. She sees things on the road with Wyatt, grand canyons and simple gestures, she learns things about the world, about herself, and she puts things behind her. Puts people behind her.

She comes back and the moms are so forgiving and Jude is so mad and then so happy and it was still the wrong choice, she knows this, but she needed to do it.

He's moved on by then with some girl named Samantha and it is the best thing that could have happened to her because it means that she didn't matter to him.

And she needs to not matter to him.

Because she knows how this would all play out if she did: they'll be unable to resist _this _and then the moms will find out and they'll take off and stay in cheap motels and drive around with the music too loud and the windows down as if they just don't care. And then they'll settle somewhere far away and work two jobs each and rent a studio apartment and make ramen on a hot plate and kiss under the moonlight and sometimes think of college and music and the way Jude laughs. And it will be beautiful and horrible, great and terrible, two stupid kids just trying to be anything but stupid, and they won't speak of it, but they will have a secret and the secret will be this: they do care.

They will have traded everything for this.

And what then?

x

This is the road to ruin.

(Start at the beginning.)

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing. Love to all._


End file.
